


Round Table for Two

by moondustings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Queer Themes, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondustings/pseuds/moondustings
Summary: Merlin feels bad for his loneliest customer.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 258
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2019





	Round Table for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlantedKnitting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlantedKnitting/gifts).



> Happy Merlin Holidays, SlantedKnitting! I have absolutely adored your fics for eons, and was so excited to be assigned as your Secret Santa and get to write for you this year. I loved your prompt about restaurant server Merlin trying to cheer up stood up Arthur, and I tried to incorporate a few of your likes, as well. I hope you enjoy, and that your holiday season and your new year are merry and bright <33
> 
> Thank you to the mods for running this wonderful fest for another year, and for everything you do! <33

“How long has he been sitting there?”

Gwen tilted her head up toward Merlin’s own, hovering over her shoulder where they stood together in the kitchen doorway. Even as she answered him, neither of their eyes left the curious sight before them.

“Almost an hour,” Gwen said, biting her lip.

“An _hour_?” Merlin repeated, aghast.

“I know, it’s awful. I haven’t even wanted to check up on him anymore, I think it’s just making him feel worse.”

Merlin stared ahead, face scrunched up in puzzlement.

“But who would stand him up? He’s clearly... I mean, he’s... he looks... very nice,” he stammered out.

For the first time, Gwen’s gaze broke away to meet Merlin's, smirking.

“He looks very _gorgeous_ , I think you meant,” she teased.

“Fine, he’s gorgeous,” Merlin admitted, looking back toward the only man sitting alone in all of the restaurant. Tousled blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, chiseled jaw, looked like he could bench press Merlin into the New Year... what wasn’t to appreciate?

“He’s probably an arsehole. Maybe that’s why his date couldn’t be bothered to show up.”

“He’s actually been perfectly polite to me all night,” Gwen answered. “Sweet, even.”

“Oh,” Merlin replied, feeling his chest squeeze with sympathy for this stranger.

“Well, he’s all yours now,” Gwen said, untying the knot of her apron and sliding it from her waist, pushing it into Merlin’s hands as she turned to leave. “I gotta go, Lance is waiting outside.”

“Great,” Merlin said, tossing the balled up black fabric into the hamper around the corner behind them.

“Good luck!” Gwen called softly as she rushed away, blowing him a kiss.

Merlin smiled at her, and then looked nervously back toward the table. He hated situations like this — if anyone could actually, physically die from the agony of secondhand embarrassment, it would be him.

Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and made his way over.

“Good evening, sir,” Merlin said, doing his absolute best not to sound at all emotionally involved against his will. “Gwen has gone home for the night, so I’ll be taking over as your server. Can I—”

“She went home?” the man asked.

“Um, yes,” Merlin answered, a bit taken aback by the question.

“God…” the beautiful, sadder-by-the-second-looking man sighed. “How long have I been here now?” He glanced down at his watch, but didn’t seem to really see it.

“About an hour, I think,” Merlin answered, hoping his tone sounded both gentle and nonchalant.

“Jesus…”

Merlin bit his lip as the man put a hand to his brow and rubbed his face, expecting him to get up to leave. But he didn’t.

Sighing again and seeming to compose himself, he looked up at Merlin.

“I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry — Merlin. Can I get you anything to drink besides water while you wait?”

 _“Merlin?”_ the man repeated, incredulous.

Merlin felt his ears redden, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, Merlin, and yes, I promise it’s my real name.”

The man’s eyebrows jumped slightly in a silent “huh” of acceptance.

“Well, it's nice to meet you, Merlin. I’m Arthur,” he said, extending a hand. Merlin took it; it was huge, warm, and sent a small shiver down his spine. Glancing down at their clasped hands, Merlin saw the hint of what looked like an elaborate tattoo peeking from beneath the cuff of his dark blue sweater, then quickly looked away so he didn't end up staring, trying to puzzle out the design.

 _'Merlin and Arthur,'_ he thought, trying to will himself not to blush. _'Perfect.'_

“Are you kidding?” Merlin asked, grinning.

“I’m actually not,” Arthur answered before lifting his glass and downing the rest of his water, distracting Merlin with the bob of his Adam’s apple as he did so.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Well, can I get you a refill, or anything else, Arthur?”

“Sure, another glass of water would be good, I think. Thank you.”

“Nothing else?” Merlin asked, feeling worse by the second. Not only was he even more beautiful up close (and God, that voice), but Gwen had been right: he did seem sweet.

Arthur seemed to hesitate, but then answered “No, thank you, just water is fine,” and then went back to staring down at his watch.

Merlin smiled softly at him. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Before he was even halfway back to the kitchen, Merlin decided not to listen to Arthur.

A few minutes later, he returned to the small round table with Arthur’s requested glass of water, along with a glass of red wine and a dessert plate holding a thick, warm brownie topped with melting caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream, and set them before him.

“What is this?” Arthur asked, clearly caught off guard, but seemingly not displeased. Merlin smiled in relief.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Merlin said, sheepishly adding “you’ve been waiting a while.”

Arthur gave a sad smile to the brownie, and then looked up at Merlin. “You mean you thought I might be incredibly pathetic and in need of an emergency sugar coma.”

“And _wine_ ,” Merlin replied.

Arthur barked a surprised laugh and reached for his wine glass. “To your honesty,” he toasted Merlin, and then took a sip. “If only more people in my life had that quality.”

Merlin huffed a sympathetic sigh. “I’m sorry, do you want some real food, as well? Anything you want. Doesn’t even have to be on the menu.”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“My friend Leon’s the head chef here. He can make anything, and he will if I ask. What do you say?”

Arthur shook his head and looked back down at his watch. “Thank you, Merlin, but I’m alright. I’m going to give him another five minutes, and then I’ll probably just take dessert home with me. I’m actually not all that hungry anymore.”

 _‘Him?’_ Merlin thought.

“Him?” Merlin asked, unable to stop himself.

Arthur met his gaze again. “My father.”

Merlin wasn’t sure which emotion had the upper hand: his surprise that Arthur wasn’t here for a date after all, or the disappointment that the five seconds he spent thinking just maybe this prince of a man wasn’t straight were already over.

“Your father?” Merlin asked, managing to keep the rest inside.

“Yeah. I… well… we had dinner recently… a different dinner… one he actually attended.” Arthur cleared his throat. “It didn’t go so well. I was hoping to make up for that tonight, but… I don’t know.”

“Did you two have an argument?” Merlin shocked himself by asking; this was escalating quickly into far and away the most unprofessional conversation he had ever found himself in with a customer and perfect stranger. But Arthur answered him openly, in a tone suggesting he was too tired to do otherwise.

“I came out to him, actually.”

Merlin’s heart leapt.

Arthur cleared his throat again, cheeks reddening a bit, but pushing forward with some confidence nevertheless.

“It actually went alright,” he continued. “Or, at least, I thought it did.” He paused, taking another drink of his wine. “What I mean is, he didn’t punch me in the face, or storm out of the room and slam a door, or both, like I was expecting. He… he was quiet. He was surprised—or, well, actually I think at least part of him has probably always known, without wanting to. But he was clearly shocked that I was actually… saying it, you know? Making it real. But… he still shook my hand goodnight at the end, and when I asked him for another dinner this week, so we could talk more, he agreed… so I thought…” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry, your father _shook your hand_ goodnight?” Merlin asked, incredulous, thinking of his own mother, who practically knocked him bodily to the ground with affection every time she saw him.

“Hmm?” Arthur hummed, seeming to break out of a bit of a trance. “Oh, yeah, that’s… just kind of how he is.”

He said it nonchalantly enough, but Merlin could hear the pain in it, and in that moment, Merlin wanted nothing more than to tug the man to his feet and hug him as hard as he could.

Instead, he just said. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled sadly at him. “Thanks. It’s alright.”

Merlin sighed, and then glanced quickly around the rest of the dining room. It was slow, close to closing now, and Arthur’s was his only table anyway. He made up his mind and sat down across from Arthur.

“What are you doing? I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Arthur said, sounding almost panicked, and clearly embarrassed that this random waiter felt bad enough for him to be doing this.

“I’m friends with the owner, remember? Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I mean it. I’m… so sorry you’re dealing with all of this.”

Arthur smiled at him again, and it was so full of genuine kindness and appreciation in spite of the pain he was clearly in, Merlin could have cried himself.

He realized with a start that it had been a long time since he had felt so instantly connected to someone else. A complete stranger who suddenly didn’t feel like one at all.

“It was hard for me, too,” Merlin said. “When I came out.”

Arthur’s face brightened instantly, causing Merlin’s stomach to flip over in his belly.

“My mom was accepting right away, and really, I think she’d always known, too; she just waited for me to be ready to say so, if I wanted, in my own time. But I lost some friends.”

“I’m so sorry, Merlin. That’s awful,” Arthur said, setting down his now finished glass of wine, cheeks just a bit flushed now.

“I think it’s amazing that you put yourself out here like this, even when it didn’t go so well the other night,” Merlin said. “It was really brave of you to come here, and to wait for him like this. You seem like… a very nice person.”

 _‘A very nice person?'_ Merlin repeated inwardly, wanting to slap himself in the face.

But Arthur didn’t seem to think he’d fumbled.

“Thank you, Merlin. You do, too.”

There was a weighty, yet surprisingly comfortable moment of silence between them.

“Would you, um…” Arthur cleared his throat again, clearly nervous — god, why was everything he did so attractive? “Would you want to share this enormous brownie with me?”

Merlin smiled. “I would. Very much. I probably should work at least a little bit of the rest of my shift, though,” he replied, regrettably.

“Oh,” Arthur said. “Oh yeah, of course. That’s alright, I’m sorry, I—”

“Can I take you out after? For some real food, or another drink? I’ll be off in about 30.”

Arthur smiled, the first time with teeth, which were, of course, absolutely perfect — dazzlingly white, and adorably crooked.

“That would be great, Merlin.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, beginning to stand up.

“Except,” Arthur said, causing Merlin to stop mid-stand, “I insist on taking _you_ out. You’ve already done enough for me for one night.”

“I brought you a brownie.”

“ _And_ wine,” Arthur correct.

Merlin snorted. “Touché. Fine, you may take me out. But no steakhouses.”

“Why would you assume I would take you to a steakhouse?”

“I don’t know, you just seem like the kind of man who enjoys a good steak.”

“Well, I am,” Arthur confessed. “What do you mean I seem like the kind of man who enjoys a steak? How could you possibly know that?”

“Magic,” Merlin winked at him, and started to walk away, back toward the kitchen. He turned back around at the last moment and saw Arthur gazing after him with a soft smile.

“I’m a vegetarian,” Merlin said.

“Of course you are,” he heard Arthur reply, tone teasing, but voice full of light.


End file.
